R I P, Gail
by tswsots
Summary: Post-season 7, CJ is in love with Danny, but still struggling with commitment issues.
1. Chapter 1

The meeting with Hollis got her juices flowing. In her professional life, at least, CJ seemed to have her legs under her. Arriving back at her hotel room, she had a strong urge to call Danny and tell him about it. She hesitated, her hand floating over the receiver, and played the conversation out in her mind. The trouble was there was no way to talk to him now without having the conversation she wasn't ready for. She wanted very much to call Toby – or President Bartlet. It was funny to think that he would have time now, to take a personal call. But she remembered Toby's reproach, the last time she'd seen him. _Stop bouncing around and pick something_. She shouldn't be asking another man for advice – even friendly advice - about Danny. And to talk to anyone without talking about Danny seemed dishonest. She would be hiding something.

Instead, she slid her laptop out of its case, plugged it into the wall, and got busy. There was a lot to plan, a lot to think about. She worked until 3 am.

On autopilot, she rose again at six, a full fifteen minutes before her wake up call. She turned on the news, and watched it while she waited for coffee to brew. She drank the coffee, showered, dressed, put on make-up, and packed her pajamas and toiletries back into her rolling suitcase. On her way out the door, she picked up the USA Today on the mat. After checking out, she drove the rental car to the lot, then rode the shuttle to the airport, reading her newspaper all the while. No interaction required her to speak more than ten words, and she had the bizarre, but welcome sensation of being alone in the world.

In the airport, she bought the New York Times and the Washington Post. Seeing the bylines – Greg Brock, Katie Witt, Mark O'Donnell – she saw the briefing room swim in front of her face. _CJ, is the White House aware that Congressman Conklin is calling the troop deployment in Kazakhstan a "reckless strategy predicated on the dubious assumption that neither Russia nor China will call our bluff"? _Would Santos' press secretary know how to answer that one? She had been deeply moved by the confidence Leo and the president had shown her by making her Chief of Staff, and she was proud of the work she had done, but she had never owned the COS's office in the same way that she had owned the briefing room.

On the plane, she continued to read, drank a diet soda, and wrote a letter, by hand, to her father. She told him about the meeting. It was a relief to feel like she was telling someone, but with her father, as with Danny, there was too much she couldn't say, and her chest began to knot up as she wrote.

It was 4:30 in the afternoon, Eastern Standard Time, when she arrived in her apartment. She opened her mail, which consisted of bills and a postcard from Kate Harper, who had gone to Bermuda for a week. She fed her goldfish, and then wandered into her bedroom. Unsure what to do next, she lay down on the bed. _I should get up in a minute_, she thought. _I shouldn't fall asleep. I'll be jetlagged tomorrow if I don't force myself to stay on a normal schedule. _

Hours later, she woke, stiff and uncomfortable. She had slept in her clothes, on top of the covers. Her mouth felt disgusting. She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and grimaced at her reflection. Her make-up was smeared, her suit was crumpled, and there was a pink impression on her face where she had been lying on top of her watchband. She went into the kitchen and dug around in the cupboards for something to eat. Finding very little, she made herself a peanut butter sandwich. She went to her desk to check her email. There were messages from people that she and Hollis had approached to be part of the team they were building. She realized that a part of her had been hoping there would be a message from Danny. As she thought of him, her eyes went to the fishbowl, which sat beside her computer on her desk. Gail wasn't moving. Gail was - upside-down. Gail was dead.

Moving quickly, CJ picked up the fishbowl, went to the bathroom, dumped the fish in the toilet, and flushed. The minute the orange swirl disappeared into the hole, she clamped the seat shut like a trap door. Then she was surprised at herself. What had she done that for? She couldn't have buried Gail in a park somewhere? Couldn't even have taken an extra second to look at her? Not that it mattered, of course, but… She sat on the toilet seat, and felt her eyes swim with tears. The knot in her chest was loosening, and in an instant, she was sobbing like a child, sobbing as if her heart would break.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny thrust off the covers and propped himself up on an elbow. The glowing red letters on his clock radio said it was one a. m. He had gone to sleep only an hour ago.

"What's up, CJ?"

"Can you come over?" It came out as a sob.

"Be right there."

Twenty-five groggy minutes later, he rang her doorbell. She opened the door almost immediately. He could see that she had washed her face, but it was still blotchy. She was smiling sheepishly.

"I'm being silly. I shouldn't have called."

"Don't worry about it. Ask me in," he said.

"Okay." She made way for him, and he followed her into a lamp-lit living room.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Sit." He sat, and she went into the kitchen.

He waited until they were sitting, facing each other, each with a drink in hand, and let her take a sip before he said, "So?"

"So," she put her drink down and ran her fingers over her skirt, straightening it. "So, Gail died."

"Ah, no!" he said. "You killed my fish."

It got her back up. "_My _fish, Danny, and I didn't kill her. She died. It happens. Fish get old. They die."

"Okay."

"Only –" she sighed. "Only I thought – I took it as a sign. Don't laugh. A bad sign for us, I mean. Do you think it's a sign?"

"Nah. Fish get old, like you said. We'll get another fish."

"I don't want another fish."

"So we'll get a hermit crab," he said.

"Okay."

"Did I miss the funeral?"

"You missed the burial, I'm afraid. I've flushed her away already."

"Boy, goldfish sure have undignified deaths," he said. "Alright. Burial over with, ceremony to follow."

He did laugh, then, and she chuckled a little, too. Then she said, "I just want this to work. I really, really like you."

"CJ, what I said on Wednesday… I shouldn't have said it. I don't want to rush you. Take all the time you need."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm glad you said it. It made me feel – proud."

"Really?" he said, surprised.

"Really. Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I haven't told you. When you were in Sudan – in between when we first knew each other and when you came back to the White House – there was a guy."

"I don't care that you dated. We weren't together then, CJ. I dated, too."

"We didn't date," she said. "He was a Secret Service agent."

"Wow. That's, uh, intimidating. Was it the gun that got to you? Because I could get a gun."

"Danny."

"Maybe just a little toy plastic one –"

"Shut up. He died."

"Oh," he said.

"Yeah." She looked away, but he could see she was tearing up again.

"How?" he asked.

"He walked into the middle of an armed robbery. He arrested a guy, and while he was waiting for New York police to show up, a second guy shot him through the window."

"And you liked him," Danny said.

"I did." She finished her drink. "Danny I really like you."

"And our fish died, and you're scared, because you think it's a bad sign."

"Right."

"CJ, if I ever walk into an armed robbery, I will give the crooks my wallet and I will get out of their way."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," she said.

He leaned forward and tucked a soft strand of hair back behind her ear. "You can be the tough one, CJ."

She slipped off her shoes, stepped onto the wooden floorboards in stockinged feet, and climbed into his chair with him. He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her middle, and kissed the side of her head.

"Danny?"

"Mm."

"I love you, too."

He drew back, astonished, then placed his hand on her jaw and turned her head toward him. He looked into her eyes for a long moment, and then kissed her full on the mouth.

"Okay," he said.

"Danny?" she fussed absently with his shirt buttons.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about those women."

"What women?"

"The ones you dated."

"Well, they were short…"


End file.
